castrum in vitrum
by Piriluk
Summary: Before he can question her anymore about it, the mysterious girl is gone, and he is left in the hallway by himself again. He didn't even get her name. / Prince!Len / aaaand yes, one day there will be RinxLen / possible a two/three/four/eight/ninety-shot depending on my motivation / previous title: castrum in vitris (it translated to castle in thermometer? what.)


**castrum in vitrum**

It's not long before Len realises that bastard had lodged a blade in the lower left of his stomach, and that he is bleeding. Very much.

The wound keeps at a dull ache mostly, but with each movement a sharp pain ripples through his body so much that he has to lean against the wall for support. Feeling his warm blood trickle through his fingers, he rolls his eyes back into his head and fights the urge to gag.

"Oh God," he breathes aloud.

He can't scream for help—that will just bring trouble. The group of powerful terrorists—whoever they are—are obviously out for his blood. They're scattered around the castle, searching and destroying everything in sight.

Len tries to slide against the wall as minimally and painlessly as possible, making his way to the closest room. He has nowhere to go: the places he wants to go to are too far for him to reach, or are located where the attackers would be.

What would they be doing, now? Searching for him? Spilling the blood of his beloved ones and the people who devoted their lives to keeping his home in order? He doesn't even want to imagine.

He's just about to twist the door handle of a room to his left open, when the sounds of running footsteps make him freeze. He watches anxiously as the perpetrators' shadows move along the walls, closer to his destination, and closes his eyes as they round the corner, anticipating his inevitable death.

"Oh goody," someone—a female—chimes in a pleasant tone. The footsteps halt, and Len slowly opens his eyes to face a group of three cloaked people standing several metres in front of him. They're clad in high-tech-looking weaponry and other objects—a strange, yet somewhat familiar embroidery decorating the edges of their robes.

Len swallows hard, gripping the handle tightly as a wave of nauseating pain sears through his stomach. It's enough to knock him off his feet, and the shortest of the unknown trio rushes forward to break his fall.

"Ah, that's a good one," she says, obviously gesturing to his sliced stomach. She helps him into a reasonably comfortable sitting position, before turning to the other two figures who are still standing back. "You guys go make sure no one else comes this way. I'll take care of _Princeps Cinaede_."

The rest of the trio bustle off in opposite directions without any words, leaving him with the strange, unidentified girl.

"What did you just call me?" Len asks anxiously.

The female turns back on her heel to face him and flips back the hood on her cloak, revealing a pair of round, blue eyes, a small, heart-shaped face and short, golden hair. Her pink lips curve into a snide grin as she studies him. She's surprisingly… pretty. He expected much worse, actually. Ignoring his question, she says, "First, let's find us a table."

She disappears into the room Len had originally planned to hide in, and emerges a few seconds later with her lips now pursed in thought. "Will a desk do?" she queries, seemingly to herself. Len frowns at the thought of not knowing what she's planning. "Hm. It'll be a bit more uncomfortable, but time is short, I'm afraid."

The next moment, she has Len hauled up on his feet again, and offers her weight to help him walk. He winces as more waves of pain spread throughout his body. She half-drags Len into the room—being surprisingly sturdy for her height—and places him in front of a cluttered desk against the furthest wall. With the flick of her hand, she sends the mess onto the floor with an invisible force.

"Sit," she orders, while Len looks on in confusion. _Magic?_ he thinks. _But magic-users went extinct centuries ago. _Impatiently, over his lack of response, the girl forces him onto the table herself, giving Len another dose of great agony.

This time, he sobs unintentionally, and she looks at him half-apologetically, to say, "Well, you didn't listen."

"Who are you?" Len then asks, as the thought of questioning her identity finally came to mind. The girl helps him lie down on the desk top, leaving his legs hanging over the edge.

She tears open his blouse effortlessly, and hums in thought as she peels away the soaked fabric from his wound.

"Me?" she asks, almost mockingly, grabbing a satchel out from her pocket. She opens it and sprinkles what looks like dried herbs on his stomach. Len frowns. "I'm _nec cuiusquam principis_." Then, she snickers. "Do you know what that means?"

Len blinks. "No."

"Good," the girl answers bluntly. "Then you're better off not knowing." She sighs and puts away her satchel, pulling out a small book from her pocket instead. "Now… let's see…" She flicks through the pages, uttering incoherent language to herself.

"_Homicidium, delectabitur, introibant, urinae… _Ah! _Curationum_. This is what I want." She stops to look Len dead in the eye. "Now, _puer autem cuiusquam_, if you stay still and shut up, this won't hurt as much. However, if you choose to be a turd, then it will be _the worst pain you could ever imagine_. Got it?"

Len blinks, nodding silently; clueless of what this strange person is planning to do.

Is she going to murder him? Eat his stomach? Well, since she seasoned it… He closes his eyes and hopes that whatever she is doing she will do quickly.

The girl starts to utter that gibberish language she was on with earlier, like she's chanting some kind of ancient hymn. Len's wound starts to grow warm, until the warmth spreads across his body and starts to burn and throb.

After a few moments of this heated sensation, abruptly his entire body bursts into the pain equivalent to a thousand flames (well, he thinks so). Len lets a scream escape his lips in utter anguish as well as surprise, only to find that it makes it _worse_. So he whimpers instead, holding in his cries, feeling tears and sweat drip down the sides of his face. At this point, he thinks he is literally going to die.

But miraculously, he doesn't. The flames, after what feels like years, fade back into the warmth again, and the pain in his stomach has somewhat subsided. The girl has finished her strange mantra, and is now looking over him, almost expectantly.

She holds something up in her hand. The blade he was stabbed with. Len blinks in confusion. How'd she… get that out without him noticing? She smiles blandly and tosses it over her shoulder, letting it clatter to the floor.

"Okay. Let's get outta here," she says with a sigh, turning away. He almost misses her muttering, "God, you're such a _magnus infantem_."

Frowning, Len slowly sits up, to realise that the gash in his stomach… is nowhere to be seen. There is no pain either. A small pink dot replaces it—the skin is as good as new and looks like it hasn't been touched. "What did you do?" he demands incredulously, hurrying after the girl.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, nothing much. Just doing my job." They step out into the hallway cautiously. "I wonder whether the others have taken care of the rest…" she muses, pressing her lips together.

The weird girl swishes back around to face him brusquely, making him step back in avoidance of being hit. "Well, anyhow, you need to go. Right now."

"Me?" Len asks.

"Who else?" she inquires back with a load of sarcasm. "Boy, you're so _caligavit_."

She pauses to fold her arms over her chest, a sudden solemnity falling over her. "Anyway, you must go, before the rest come looking for you. You know they want to remove anyone of blood-relation to the royal family, right? Especially the prince." She narrows her eyes at Len.

He looks at her uncertainly. "But where do I go? What about my family? The maids and servants? I cannot just run away like a coward."

"A coward?" she repeats slowly.

Len furrows his eyebrows, nodding.

The girl sighs, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and positioning him so she can hold his gaze with hers. "I'm just saying what I've been ordered. You must leave. There is a secret exit on the fourth floor, in the third room on the right side of the castle. It's in the closet—a trapdoor. Make sure no one sees you, and close the doors so it's not obvious of your escape. It will take you to the secret safe house in Medina Forest," she instructs carefully, before dropping her gaze. "Those whose times have come, will come, and my group will try the best we can to protect those still alive. I'm sorry, Your Highness, but it's our job to ensure you survive. And so, you must escape before it's too late. Comprehendè?"

Len hesitates, before nodding once again, gently, a tight, sinking feeling in his chest.

She steps away, dropping her hands to her sides, before bowing formally, in contrast to her diva-like attitude from earlier. "Well, I have completed my duties for now with you, _infantem princeps_, and so now I must take my leave."

The girl goes to turn, but Len stops her. "Wait."

She exhales, her eyelids flitting. "What _now?_"

"Tell me, what will I do after I leave? When will I come back? Where will I go?" he questions anxiously.

The girl closes her eyes, almost like she's tired—or just peeved. "You won't come back. It's far too dangerous. You must travel as far away from here, as far as possible. You cannot tell anyone you're the prince. You will not tell anyone about this. You must lie about everything. Len Kagamine is dead. No one can know who you are, because if they find out you're alive, _they'll_ hunt you down and kill you," she explains in monotone. "Is that all?"

"No. Why should I trust anything that you're saying? I don't even know who you are. You could be leading me to my death."

After gazing at him blankly, she suddenly smiles in an irritated fashion, digging something out of her pocket. It's a small, golden badge of some sort. "You'll trust me anyway," she says.

The girl flashes her badge at his face, allowing him to momentarily read: _Official Member of Shion's Secret Magicae Society, 2236—present_. There's an intricate design in the middle of a bird holding a strange object in its mouth and the words, '_pacem et reddere orbis_' are engraved in the bottom. After allowing him to look at it for a few more seconds, she tucks the badge away hastily, like it's not supposed to be seen.

Len stands still, dazed. _The year 2236? _Len thinks, _but it's only 2142—_

Before he can question her anymore about it, the mysterious girl is gone, and he is left in the hallway by himself again.

He didn't even get her name.

* * *

><p>idek. that title? idek either. ( will probably change later. it's late and I need to go to bed)<p>

you can translate the latin poop yeselves you lazy farts haha I cannotto be stuffed ouo

hALLO I'M ALIVED!S YES MANY THINGS OVERDUE BUT AT LEAST i? DID SOMETHING. IN A DAY. WEEHEEEE. HAHA. (cries)

aaaaaaaAAAAAaAAaaA um this may end up being a two-shot. or three-shot. or six-shot. or whatever. idk. I don't even know what to do with my life, let alone know what I'm going to do with this? unplanned shite. but regardless of it I realise it does need something to go along with it because it's unfinished and makes no sense haha? and that I will not touch this until I at least upload the next chapter of Caligo (which i can assure u I've only typed like 300 words for so far haha totally /sobs)

I need to shut I'm tired but please review and tell em what a piece of baby poo I am please :') thank you. I love you. bye.

**EDIT (23/12):** fixed the title. for some reason, when I checked the translation in google (shh I forgot what it said okay) it told me the name was castle in thermometer. which wasn't what I? but anyway. fixed that. it's now Castle in the Crystal, or something like that (sweats) shit I'm a shit goodbye. (also fixed some other small mistakes. I feel like there's another mistake somewhere else but I can't find it. ugh let me know if anything sounds stupid. wait, no- just let me know if something doesn't make sense? because this whole story probably sounds stupid. probably)


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